


Between the Sheets

by cazflibs



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/pseuds/cazflibs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d dragged his bedsheets down to join Rimmer’s long ago – some unknown hour in the dark when he could no longer resist the gravitational pull of the lower bunk. </p><p>Spoilers for 'Entangled', series X</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Sheets

Lister couldn't remember when it had started.

He’d dragged his bedsheets down to join Rimmer’s long ago – some unknown hour in the dark when he could no longer resist the gravitational pull of the lower bunk. Rimmer had seemed to welcome the company of the bedding - in more ways than one - wordlessly incorporating the Scouser’s sheet and pillows into his own morning bed-making routine.

Kryten knew, of course. He'd passed his own silent judgment on the situation. The mechanoid no longer changed the sheets on the newly incorporated bed, instead leaving the two sets of bedding in distinctly separate piles on the table for his masters to deal with how they saw fit.

***

Lister hovered awkwardly in the doorway to the sleeping quarters. The hologram was either being incredibly thorough as he plumped up the pillow, or was undergoing some rough interrogation of the offending item. As if its’ treacherous owner had once whispered his motives into its feathery depths.

“Rimmer – ”

“Why did you do it?”

No 'Listy'. No 'Dave'. Just the question, stripped bare.

Lister squirmed, shifting from one foot to the other. He hoped it would be perceived as genuine remorse, and not a subtle move to satisfy a niggling itch incurred by the groinal blaster's tacky metal.

“I was drunk,” he shrugged lamely.

Rimmer laboured over a drawn-out, reproachful roll of the eyes.

Lister tucked his hands under his arms in defence. “Don't give me that," he frowned. "You didn’t even care that there were life-signs on that moon, did you? That Kochanski could have been there?” He scoffed. “No – you’d rather make me fill out your stupid smegging forms.”

Still clutching the pillow with a worryingly tight grasp, Rimmer suddenly wheeled round to face him. "What did you say?"

Lister's eyes flitted down to the pillow before returning to his accusing gaze. His weapon hardly instilled fear, but the tone in Rimmer's voice was sharp enough to startle him.

"Your forms?" he prompted. "The twenty-page document you absolutely insisted I fill in to explain the kebab incident in half a million words or less?" He leant against the table with both palms, as if the mere prospect exhausted him. "Smegging hell, me biro would run outta ink before I got to the end."

"Oh, _god!_ " Rimmer wrung out the name in frustration. He dragged his hands down his face, muttering into his palms. "How could I have been so stupid - "

The ancient dreadlocks danced as Lister shook his head, lost. "I don't get it."

Hazel eyes met his. "No, Lister. You never have."

Blink. "Eh?"

Although his nostrils flared in characteristic annoyance, something in Rimmer's tone sounded wounded. "It really is all just a game to you, isn't it?"

Now it was Lister's turn to roll his eyes. "Of course it wasn't!" he sighed, somewhat hen-pecked. "I was trying to get _Starbug_ back - it was all or nothin'." He gestured to him in encouragement. "You're a _Risk_ man - you of all people should get that you've got to gamble to get the pay-off."

Rimmer's glare spat him a look of pure hatred before wheeling back to the bed. He fought to strip apart the two sets of sheets that lay twisted together on the bed, tossing up Lister's pillows onto his old bunk above.

“Oh no, don’t do that,” Lister pleaded weakly.

“You’ve made it perfectly clear how you see me,” the hologram fumed. “An object – a thing – to be played with." He battled to seperate the sheets that remained stubbornly entangled with one another. "To be won.” Rimmer’s eyes met with his fleetingly – a flash of anger and remorse. “Or lost,” he added, pointedly.

“Rimmer - ”

Thrusting the bundle into the top bunk, Rimmer turned wordlessly on his heels and stormed past without a final glance. Lister fought to snare eye contact.

“I’ll win you back!” he shouted after the hologram as he disappeared through the doorway. A sigh caught ragged in his throat as his eyes fell on the lost lower bunk. “I’ll win you back.”


End file.
